


Snow, blanket, lamp

by ABigWhiteWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABigWhiteWolf/pseuds/ABigWhiteWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is trying a new experiment that is quite dangerous for his health. John is worried and tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow, blanket, lamp

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by my lovely friend, who sent me three words that must be included in the story. The words were "snow, blanket, and lamp". Enjoy this minuscule almost fluff.

“Oh for God’s sake. He can’t be serious!” John was standing in front of the window in the living room. It was already after ten o’clock in the evening and a truly magnificent scene was being enacted in front of the flat, at the Baker Street. Apart from the heavy snow falling on the ground in what did seem like a speed of light, there was a man sitting alone on the pavement, his back leaning against a streetlamp. He wasn’t wearing a hat, scarf or gloves; he didn’t even wear a coat or a jacket. No matter how much he tried to hide it, it was obvious that he shivered with cold. There was a small plastic cup placed in front of him. John sighed and opened the window.

“What are you doing there?” he shouted.

There was no response. John shook his head in disbelief and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sherlock!”

The man outside, Sherlock, lifted his head.

“Shush! Be quiet or it won’t work! It’s an experiment!” 

“Experiment? What are you trying to figure out this time? I wonder how long do I have to sit outside, bare-assed, until I catch a really nasty flu? – something like that?”

“I’m not bare-…! No, I’m trying to find out how much devastated I have to look in order to attract people’s attention. I’m only at the first stage now. I left my coat, jacket and my scarf in the flat. As you may see, the cup is almost empty. The only money I got is from a woman who accidentally dropped her purse while she was passing me by. I guess she felt too awkward to just walk away, so she threw me a quid.”

“Sherlock, this street is practically empty at this time of the day, let alone at this time of the year. You hardly earn any money here.”

“No, I just haven’t succeeded in catching their attention. I guess I will have to approach the stage two.”

“What’s that?”

“Breaking my limb. Waffling… Singing.”

“Christ. What happens at the third stage?”

“I get a dog.”

John nearly let the smile seize control over his face. No, this wasn’t fun. Sherlock’s health was at hazard and John couldn’t simply stand idly by and watch him.

“Sherlock, it’s really cold. You should come inside, I can see you trembling.”

“I’m not cold John, I’m only pretending it!” Sherlock said as he embraced his knees with his arms, rocking slightly, his chin resting on the knees. “Now shut up and go away, before the people realize you know me.” 

John took a long look at the empty street. “Right…” he said quietly, and closed the window.

The snow fall ceased to be romantic the moment the wind joined in, quickly transforming the fall into a furious blizzard. Sherlock buried his face between his knees. Suddenly, he heard a noise of the snow cracking under somebody’s feet. Before he managed to lift up his head, he felt something soft that weighted his shoulders. Someone patted his arm.

“I’ve brought you a blanket, just in case. I’ve seen many people actually lying or kneeling on it while they beg for money. Use it as you want.”

Sherlock stared at John’s face, trying to divert John’s eyes from his hands, which were inconspicuously grabbing the blanket covering his shoulders.

“Oh and by the way, if you want to look like a real beggar, you should take that £500 shirt off, along with your £400 shoes. But then again, I’m really not the right person to give advice on beggars‘ image. After all, you’re the one having a homeless network. I’m sure you’ve already talked to them on this topic.

Silence stretched across the Baker Street, disturbed only by the howling wind.

“Oh…” was the only sound Sherlock finally made.

John nodded his head, then turned around and headed back to the flat.

 

It wasn’t long before Sherlock followed him.


End file.
